A short fiction.

Discussion in 'Transformers Fan Fiction' started by Creaky, Jul 28, 2011.

  1. Creaky

    Creaky King of Puppies

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    This is an unusual feeling for me, as I don't usually write fanfiction at all. But, I'm trying to finish my screenplay, and I found myself waylaid, and without much inspiration to get on and complete it. So I figured I'd write something quick about anything, without much focus on quality, just to sort of get my brain back into writing gear so I can go on and do another chunk of the script. Messing with my toys, I figured I'd do something Transformers related.

    Looking at it, I'm not sure how I feel about it, but it seems to have done the trick in jump-starting my brain again. I'm not sure if it really fits into any continuity, I pictured the characters in their pre-movie forms (So Starscream is inspired by the bronze preview figure, and Megatron is his movie on form), so I suppose it's an alternate Tyran Universe. The voices would also be their first movie voices (there's something about Adler's Starscream in that movie that I quite like). I may continue it when I need to kickstart my brain again (an all too often occurrence in this damned summer heat). Feel free to let me know what you think, if I continue it, I'm sure it'll come in handy (just bare in mind I'm trained to write screenplays, so I may have some teething issues with the narrative format). :) 




    Transformers: Epilogue


    Out of the silent void to the lifeless hulk: thus came Starscream the Seeker. Adrift in the chasm of space, the Nemesis sat in silence: its’ lights dark, its’ mighty cannons empty, its’ engines still. Where once a thousand warriors manned its’ battle-stations, now only shadows stalked its’ halls. Starscream approached the Emperors Gate, an entrance through to the interior of the ship, cut into the effigy of the Decepticon shield. He felt microscopically small: a tiny speck of metal flying through the colossal jaws of the Gate, into the inky blackness that seemed to fester within. The shadow was like a living thing: an infestation that could never be exterminated.

    Starscream transformed - his weight screeching onto the floor with some speed. He fired the boosters in his feet to slow himself, skidding to a halt with peerless skill. He allowed himself a moment to revel in his feat, before remembering that no one was around to be impressed. It mattered not – it was a manoeuvre he had performed a thousand times: anyone who needed to see it had done.

    A sense of gloom pervaded the hanger. Even with his superior optical sensors, he couldn’t see the walls or ceiling of the bay. A small, three-Con scout ship sat discarded on the edge of his vision: a remnant of long forgotten glories. Starscream thumbed a tab upon his bronzed chest; lights mounted upon his hull flickered into life. They began to dim: one flickered off entirely. He thumped at it with his fist, and the lights behaved.

    Though the darkness was still overbearing, Starscream walked a path he knew all too well. If there had been someone to boast to, he’d have boasted that he could find his way blind. Alas, his only company were a set of maintenance tools discarded in the gutter, and the dripping of a leaky coolant valve. He passed the bridge: empty save for a single computer, still operating on minimum power levels. He didn’t spare it a moment’s glance.

    In time he came upon a grand staircase. He descended the many steps hurriedly, and with some trepidation. He hands were clenched into tight fists, his air-coolant valves breathed heavily. The room the staircase fed into was vast. It reminded him in many ways of the Temple of Primus, in Iacon of old. But this hall was not the reserve of superstitions and gods – this was the Hall of Heroes! Starscream’s worry faded for a moment, and he allowed his lamps to burn brightly, illuminating the Hall. Upon every wall hung banners decorating the greatest Decepticon warriors: the Constructicons, the Combaticons, the Predacons, and there Starscream noticed something that, for a brief moment, stirred his spark – the Glorious 9th Seeker Squadron. The memories of his old crew began to fill his mind: Thundercracker: who having dodged Autobot flak for seven days and nights upon the killing fields of Pyrus IV, was slain by a stray Decepticon anti-bunker shell. Skywarp: lost in a teleport malfunction in the skies over Earth. Thrust, Dirge and Ramjet: legendary warriors, each decorated a hundred times over by Megatron himself, all lost to the Cosmic Rust Gas deployed on Nebulos.

    The ghosts of the past were never ones to lie silent in their tombs, however, and Starscream felt a sudden forboding – quite different to the fear of his destination. This was a feeling quite alien to him, one that he had not felt for many, many millennia. Guilt. He survived where they had not. He, alone of the Glorious 9th, had survived the eons of war to the Cold Peace. Was it his fault? Surely not - but why then did he feel the eyes of his fallen brothers staring accusingly into his spark? It was not he who fired the shell; who miscalculated the Teleport co-ordinates to seventeen different places; who deployed the gas to halt the onslaught of the Hive. So why the guilt? Why the accusations? Starscream shrugged it off. A lifetime of war under the Decepticon banner had hardened him to being something of a punching bag. Megatron was infallible, so clearly all the mistakes were Starscream’s to make. He had grown used to the threats, to the beatings, to the public humiliations.

    But still the ghosts of the 9th terrified him, and he moved on. At the end of the Hall was a black arch, shrouded with a veil of mist. He stopped before passing through. He deactivated his lamps, steeled himself, and stepped through the cold veil. Emerging, he saw a room that was, by comparison to the rest of the ship, fairly brightly lit. The room was smaller than the Hall of Heroes, but taller. A shaft of light came from somewhere in the upper reaches, illuminating an obsidian throne in the centre of a vast mural of the Decepticon shield. Upon the throne was a giant. Tall, bulky, powerful – even with unpainted, unembellished metal the giant exuded a sense of arrogance.

    There were no signs of life. The figure sat still, unmoving. The eyes were shrouded by shadow; if they functioned, Starscream could not tell. Even in stasis, Megatron made him nervous. Starscream edged closer to the throne, mulling in his mind how to broach the news to his master. From the shadows reaches of Megatron’s face, a pair of red eyes opened – these eyes, that once burned with the fury of a billion years of oppression, were now but dying embers.

    “I have returned, Lord Megatron.” Starscream’s voice had been hardened by the war – it was stern, proud and arrogant.

    “Do you have it? Speak, Starscream, quickly!” Megatron’s reply was little more than a guttural, bestial growl. It reminded Starscream of a wild beast, chained down against its’ will.

    “I searched three hundred and fifty six unexplored star systems, Lord. I could find no trace of Energon.”

    “You fail me yet again, Starscream. How dare you return empty handed!” Megatron tried to rise from his throne, but failed, and collapsed back down again. “My ship is dying, the crew have entered stasis to conserve what little Energon we have left, I give you the lions share of my own personal supply for you to find more, and you WASTE IT ON A RETURN JOURNEY!? Oh, so unwise, Starscream.”

    “Lord Megatron, I suspect that what we have long feared is true. Energon is a finite substance, relegated to the vicinity of Cybertron. Sire, we... we’ve consumed it all.”

    “The Autobots have Energon enough.”

    “Which is why I returned, Lord. Shockwave, I believe was attempting to discover the secret to artificial Energon.”

    “Shockwave is dead. His secrets died with him.”

    “Perhaps...perhaps not, Lord. The Autobots, as you say, have Energon enough. Cybertron is a dead world, but perhaps it has granted them some of its secrets.”

    Megatron raised his hand, grasping at Starscream. Missing. Starscream supressed a smirk.

    “Starscream,” Megatron growled, “the last of our kind to travel on Cybertron’s surface was Shockwave himself, pursuing that same goal, and it was his undoing. Perhaps those years in the void of space have damaged your memory cores?”

    “Yet, the Autobots found a way…”

    “Yes, they did, didn’t they?” Megatron’s face softened for a moment.

    “Lord,” Starscream fidgeted his hands behind his back, “Allow me to visit Cybertron. I will bring you the secrets of Energon, or else perish on that blasted rock.”

    Megatron’s eyes flared for a moment.

    “Bring it to me, Starscream.” He said. “Bring it to me, or not even death will put you beyond my wrath.”

    “I live to serve, Lord Megatron...”

    He paused. The lights of Megatron’s eyes faded once more, leaving Starscream alone. He backed away, passing through the veil, before finishing his sentence.

    “...for now."

    Starscream grinned to himself. Now no one would question his true motives, and when he returned to snuff out Megatron’s Spark once and for all, no one would dare question his rightful place, or else be refused the bounty of harvested Energon.

    Lord Starscream the Seeker, Last of the Glorious 9th, Hero of Tyger Pax and Champion of the Decepticons would reign in his rightful place as Emperor of Destruction. And, without question or challenge, he would reign supreme...
     
    Last edited: Jul 28, 2011
  2. SavageThunder

    SavageThunder 11th Doctor's Huntress

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    like it a lot! very intricate details as well! and im just almost speechless with awe! you are AWESOME!
     
  3. Anodythe

    Anodythe Well-Known Member

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    So many plot possiblilties...so much reading to do! Please continue...
     
  4. SavageThunder

    SavageThunder 11th Doctor's Huntress

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    i cannot find any problems at all with this story! but there is just little problem....................YOU JUST INSPIRED ME TO WRITE MORE STORIES! WOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOO!:dj 
     

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